Gapowrite

I first started writing on Wattpad and now I start publishing here because I have a big project planned. I want to make a big storie with a lot of cameos from several series in small stories and I thought that Tumblr is the best place to find an audience for all this little stories and to bring this story to life.

Chapter 2 - The old Woman

I spent the late afternoon blasting zombies, only stopping when Sophie knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready. After eating, I tried again, calling my dad. Once again, the phone rang unanswered. I started to worry, but I tried to rationalize it, thinking that depending on where he was, it might be dark where he is and he might just be sleeping. So I decided to send him a text message so he could reply when he woke up without worrying too much.

The next morning, the first thing I did when I got up was check my phone, but my dad still hadn't answered, so I really panicked and decided to go tell Sophie about my worries.

"Don't worry, okay? Let's not jump to the worst-case scenario. Maybe he just lost or broke his phone; these things happen." Listen, go to school. Your exams are coming up, and you need to focus on them. Your father gave me a number to call in case of emergency, so I'm going to call it and see if the person who owns it has more information than we do, okay?

I nod to let her know I understand and go get my bag for class. Despite Sophie's advice, I can't concentrate on my studies at all and just keep imagining increasingly horrible scenarios about what might have happened to my father.

It's funny how feelings work. I hardly ever see my father, I don't know what he does for a living, I don't know him, he's practically nothing to me, and yet, the idea that something might have happened to him fills me with an indescribable wave of anxiety.

When I finally get home, Sophie is waiting for me, looking panicked, sad, and lost. She throws herself into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably, as soon as she sees me cross the threshold. I'm afraid of what it could mean, so I try not to understand and ask her, hoping she'll tell me they're tears of joy.

"Sophie, what's wrong? What's the matter? Were you able to reach the emergency number?"

She nods in the affirmative, taking a moment to catch her breath and wipe away some of her tears.

"I called the number and... it was that woman... the woman from yesterday."

"Dad's emergency number was that woman's number, the one who claims to be... my grandmother."

"I recognized her voice when she answered... I knew right away. She told us the truth, James."

"So he is..."

I didn't finish my sentence because the emotion had finally overtaken me, and tears began to silently stream down my cheeks. We remained motionless in each other's arms for a few minutes, expressing our grief for a man we barely knew and whom we would never have the chance to know better. I finally wanted to know more and went over to the living room table where Sophie had left the emergency number. I took out my phone and dialed it.

"Hello?" asked the old woman's voice on the other end of the line.

"So, you're really my grandmother?"

"Yes," she replied simply after a few seconds of silence.

"Can we talk?"

"Tell me when, and I'll come to your place. The sooner, the better."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the hotel downtown. Why?"

"Give me your room number, I'll be there at 5 p.m."

"Very well. Whatever you wish."

I jotted down her room number on a scrap of paper lying around and hung up. After eating and attending my weekly martial arts class, I headed downtown, specifically to the hotel where my grandmother was staying. My grandmother... it felt strange using that word for the first time. I went into the hotel and headed to the reception desk to ask where the room corresponding to the number she had given me was located. I took the elevator, walked down the corridor, and stopped in front of her room. I stood there, hesitating, wondering if it was a good idea, if I had done the right thing by telling her I wanted to see and talk to her. I took a deep breath, mustered my courage, and finally knocked on the door.

"I'm coming!" she said aloud, approaching the door.

After a few seconds, I heard the door mechanism engage and the door opened, revealing the old woman from the day before. She raised her head slightly to see my face and smiled.

"Come on, come in, we have things to talk about," she said before turning to head towards her bed.

I went in and closed the door behind me before walking into the room. She sat down on the bed and beckoned me to join her by tapping beside her, but I shook my head.

- Why did Dad never tell me about you?

- It's complicated, but let's just say it was to protect you.

- Protect me? Protect me from what or who? From you? Were you a mobster or something?

- Protect you from people who might have it in for me. I'm not part of the mafia, but I did the same work as your father, and sometimes it gets us into trouble.

- Speaking of which, what exactly does he do? What makes him travel all the time?

- I can't tell you anything right now. Let's just say it's... confidential, and walls can have ears, so I'd rather we didn't talk about it here.

- So where? At my place?

- To be honest, I wish you had come to my place, in the United States.

- In the United States! So that's where you've been all this time?! I would have loved to come with you, but I have my final exams in two weeks and I can't miss them.

"Very well," she said, standing up. "I understand, so we'll talk about all this later." She finished, placing a hand on my back to guide me to the door.

"What?! But... wait, I just got here!"

"I can't explain only part of the story. You either have to know everything or nothing, and since you need to concentrate on your exams, we'll talk about it later."

"Wait! I have one last question. Where did he die?"

"In India, somewhere in the countryside."

"And how did you know? Were you with him?"

"No." I was his emergency number, so when he died, the police on the scene called me to let me know. "Good luck with your exams," she said before slamming the door in my face.

Chapter 1 - The meeting

I was born in a small country town called Smallville. My mother died of cancer when I was still in school, so my father had to raise me on his own. At first, we managed, but our expenses increased when I started high school, and I began working part-time jobs to help make ends meet. I wasn't very popular, but I worked with Lana at the Talon, so most people know my name. When the Talon closed, things got tough again, but my father got a better-paying opportunity in Granville, so we moved there. I finished high school working part-time jobs in the evenings and on weekends, including as a waiter. After graduation, I landed a job as a waiter at an event company in Metropolis, where I still work after several years. My father died in a car accident a few months after I graduated. So I decided to move to Metropolis to be closer to my job.

Today, the company I work for was contracted to provide service at a charity gala being held in a luxury building. While I don't particularly enjoy these kinds of events, I have to admit they're the most lucrative. As usual, I put on my uniform and apron and grabbed a tray of champagne flutes to serve the guests.

I was weaving my way through the crowd with my tray when I noticed one of my colleagues looking distressed on the terrace. One of the guests had his hand on her buttocks and seemed quite persistent. Unfortunately, waitresses sometimes experience this kind of unwanted touching, but this time, the guy seemed a bit drunk and very persistent. So I decided to intervene by going up to the terrace.

"Excuse me, could you please let go of my colleague? We need her on duty."

"Don't bother us, go find someone else to help you! Let us have some fun," he replied, tightening his grip.

I put my tray on a table, moved closer to them, and grabbed his hand to pull it away from my colleague.

"Excuse me, but you should let go of her before you do something you might regret."

He yanked his hand out of my grasp, clearly annoyed by the situation.

"What's it to you, you little shit?! We were having a good time with your girlfriend! We don't need you bothering us."

He clenched his fist and tried to punch me in the face, but the alcohol slowed his movements, and I managed to intercept it with one hand before pushing him away. He could barely stand and stumbled, landing flat on his backside. Just then, as if by chance, my boss arrived, followed by what appeared to be a friend of the drunken customer.

"What's going on here?"

"That little jerk started this fight," the man said, getting up with the help of his friend.

"I didn't start a fight, I just took his hand off Julie's backside," I explained to my boss.

"I'm sorry, it looks like he's had too much to drink again. I've already told you not to drink so much!" said the man's friend before ushering him back into the room with the others.

"What did you do to him?! You know perfectly well you should never upset a customer, let alone hit him!"

"I didn't hit him, I pushed him away so he'd let go!"

"Okay, listen (Y/n), I'm willing to let it go because you've worked with us for several years, but you're going to apologize."

"Are you serious, Patrick?! There's no way I'm going to apologize to him. It's not my fault he drank so much he can't even stand up."

"Then I'm going to have to fire you."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"I'm sorry, but we can't tolerate this kind of behavior," he said before leaving the patio.

I took off my apron and threw it on the ground, making sure to stomp on it. I then turned to the waitress who had remained silent the whole time.

"Thanks for your support anyway, that's cool."

"Sorry, it was really kind of you to intervene, but I can't afford to lose this job."

"Oh, so I can afford to, maybe?! Pfft," I sighed before heading home.

I went to the bar to grab a drink before leaving.

"Hey Adam, get me something really strong, please. I'm celebrating my firing."

The man gave me a small, apologetic smile before pouring me a cocktail, which I started on as soon as he put it down.

"Tough night? Already regretting the money you paid?" said an attractive young man, sitting down next to me.

I look at him, a little bewildered. Why is this guy talking to me? And more importantly, why does he think I can afford to donate? My gaze shifts to my outfit, and I remember I'm wearing a suit to a charity gala, and the connection hits me.

"Oh! Uh... No, not really. I used to work here, but I just got fired, so..." I finish my sentence, raising my glass in front of me.

"Oh, okay, I understand better now," he says with a smile. "Anyway, people drink more because they haven't given enough rather than too much. You know, to outdo their rivals." He adds with a grin.

"So, I guess you were beaten," I say, pointing to the flute in his hand.

"Oh no, that's because I just arrived."

"You just arrived? The event is winding down." I said, letting out a small laugh of surprise.

"You have to know how to make yourself desirable, and as they say, save the best for last," he said with a seductive smile that made me laugh even harder.

"You have something... different about you from all the other important people here tonight," I said, now intrigued by this curious but charming character.

"You think so? Perhaps it's because I don't consider myself superior to the rest of the world," he said, still with that devastating smile.

"Oh really? I would have said because of the haircut, but I suppose you could see it that way too," I said, making him laugh in turn.

"By the way, what could you possibly have done to get yourself sent away tonight? Did you call a guest with the wrong title, or did you fail to mention one of their titles?"

"According to my boss, I got into a fight with one of the guests. Actually, I just pushed a drunk guy who was unsteady on his feet and had a wandering hand," I said, still annoyed by the incident.

"Well, you're not like everyone else either, it seems," he said, laughing. "That said, I understand why he felt the urge to put his hand on you," he finished with a charming smile that made me chuckle.

"It wasn't me he touched, but one of my colleagues."

"Oh, so you wanted to play the knight in shining armor."

"If you like. I just can't stand that kind of jerk who tries to take advantage of people like that," I said, bringing a small smile to his face.

"Well, personally, I'm glad you got fired," he said, provoking an outraged look from me. "It gave me the chance to talk to you and made my evening more interesting. Seriously, you have no idea how boring it can be to talk about small talk with these people."

I smiled, letting out a small sigh of laughter at the fact that my dismissal could actually improve someone's evening. My boss arrived a few seconds later, looking annoyed when he saw me.

"What are you still doing here? I fired you, so go home now," he said calmly, sounding a little sad.

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to have one last drink."

I took another sip and said goodbye to the bartender.

"Sorry, but it looks like I'll have to leave you now. Have a good evening, sir, saving the best for last," I said before turning to leave the party.

I got into the elevator and pressed the button to return to the ground floor. Just before the doors closed, a hand reached out, and they opened to reveal the charming young man from the bar.

"Excuse me, I didn't have time to ask your name."

"And you came to stop the elevator just for that? You're quite a character. My name is (Y/n)," I said, giving a small bow. "Now, if you'll let me go home, I wish you a pleasant evening."

Chapter 1 : Break the routine

My story begins in Moulineaux, a small French town where life is good, located away from the big cities but close enough to find everything you need within a half-hour drive. In the town center, a few apartment buildings stand alongside old buildings that form the town's historic core. The further you get from the center, the more spaced out the houses become, revealing beautiful little gardens, some more flowery than others. A canal runs the length of the town, dividing it in two but not its inhabitants. Although Moulineaux is larger and more populated than a village, its residents are warm and close-knit, always ready to lend a hand and help one another. The town is beautifully adorned with flowers, especially along the canal, and many events take place there, strengthening the sense of community and the quality of life.

"James, wait for us!" shouts a young man, running up the sidewalk to catch up with another.

James, that's me, James Beauvent. 5'6", brown hair, blue eyes, and a slim, rather athletic build, even though I don't do a lot of sports. The excited little blond boy running towards me is Max, my best friend. We've known each other since we were little and we've never lost touch. I still remember our first day of school when he came up to me.

"Here, this is for you." said the blond boy, holding out a pebble to the brunette in front of him.

"A pebble?!" said the brunette, surprised.

"Now we're friends!" said the blond boy, all excited.

"But, I don't know you."

"Well, yes you do. I lent you my pebble, so we're friends."

At the time, I couldn't grasp this irrefutable logic, and so we became friends. Years have passed, arguments have sometimes erupted, but they never lasted, and our friendship has endured. We've always supported each other through tough times, whether it was breakups or failed exams, and we've never kept secrets from each other.

"You guys just have to hurry up, we're going to be late for class! I told you it was just not good to grab fast food during lunch break." I said loudly enough, turning around so the three other people behind us could hear.

I'm not a particularly good student, but I manage to get average grades in every class and I don't draw attention to myself. And if there's one thing I hate, it's being late for class. Especially when it's Mr. Dart's class, our history teacher. He's a rather old teacher who gets annoyed over nothing and loves giving extra homework to latecomers.

“Oh, come on, James, relax. It’s almost the end of the year, exams are coming up, so the old grump won’t be able to do much to us.” said one of the girls, Chloe, catching up with us.

It felt like we’d only celebrated New Year’s a few weeks ago, yet spring was already well underway and exam season was fast approaching. In a few weeks, two to be exact, we’d be sitting at our tables, looking much more serious, putting our futures on the line.

“Exactly, we have exams to study for instead of having to give a presentation for him.”

“In any case, it was really worth it, we had a great time and the food was good.” said the third boy in the group, Tom, arriving and putting his arm around Chloe’s shoulder.

"You're telling me, you could have warned me beforehand, I would have worn sneakers instead of these shoes. I'm sure I'll have gotten blisters." said the second girl, still a little behind.

"Sabrina, I told you to wear sneakers, but you wouldn't listen!"

We continued on our way, approaching the entrance to the high school, when an idea crossed Tom's mind.

"Hey, how about we go to the movies tomorrow afternoon?"

"I can't, I have my karate class." I explained.

The Wednesday afternoon classes are the only sport I do. Since I was little, my father has made me take martial arts classes. The sports varied—judo, boxing, taekwondo, karate—and the instructors changed too, but the place and time were always the same: at home, Wednesday afternoons from 2:00 to 4:30. I never understood his obsession with these sports, but he wasn't around much, so I didn't really have time to talk to him about it.

"Oh, come on, you're not going to ditch us to go to your class! Besides, you never fight, so what's the point of karate?"

"It was my dad who insisted I take these classes, and it's not so bad, it helps you let off steam. Usually, I imagine myself hitting old Draft on the head, but when you steal my dessert in the cafeteria, it's yours I imagine hitting."

Tom feigned shock while the others laughed. We finally arrived at the high school and hurried to our classroom to get there just before class started.

When our last class of the day ended, I left the school, said goodbye to my friends, and took the bus home, like every evening. It dropped me off on the street perpendicular to mine, and I only had a few meters to walk to reach my parents' house.

My mother died of cancer shortly before I started school, and my father is always away for work, so I'm used to being alone when I get home. When I was born, my father barely took a few days to stay and get to know me and help my mother before leaving again for who-knows-where, and even after she died, he didn't stop traveling for more than a week. So I spent my childhood with a housekeeper, Sophie, whom I know better than my own father. I don't really know what kind of work he does that he considers more important than his own family and that requires him to always be on the go, but it must pay well since, during all this time, he's paid a housekeeper, school fees, and all the expenses related to the house and food. He still finds time to contact Sophie to check in on me and give me instructions, like to attend these karate classes.

I'm walking on the sidewalk across from our house when I see someone waiting in front of it. My father used to pay a gardener who came by from time to time to plant flowers, prune trees, and tend to the existing blooms so that the garden and the driveway leading to the house would be full of flowers and color. The contrast between the flowers and the long black coat of the man standing in front of the door made his presence all too obvious.

I stop and look at this dark figure from a distance, unsure what to do. Who is it? Is it someone my father knows? I doubt it; he never invites anyone here since he's never here. Is he a burglar? Not dressed like that, and besides, Sophie's here, so he won't steal anything. I focus on the silhouette, trying to figure out who it could be. What I initially thought was a coat was actually a kind of large black veil the individual is wearing over their head. They're also wearing what looks like a black vest and a long dress of the same color. Looking closely at the different garments, you realize the person wearing them isn't very tall, actually quite short.

The wind blows and snatches part of the veil, revealing their white hair styled in a small bun. The individual turns a quarter turn to catch it and put it back on their head. This movement allows me to see part of their face. It's a woman who looks rather elderly. Thinking there wasn't much risk, I decided to cross the street to meet her in front of my house. Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, the woman turned to face me. The wrinkles on her face reflected the years she had lived, and two small, barely open eyes stared intently at me. I continued walking and stopped a few steps from her.

"Um... Hello. Excuse me, but you're in front of my house, and I'd like to come in," I said timidly, hoping she wasn't a psychopath.

"You must be James then. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, even though I wish it had been under different circumstances," she replied calmly.

"You know my name!? But who are you?" I asked, concentrating on her face, trying to recognize her.

"I'm your grandmother, on your father's side. He's probably never mentioned me to you because I live so far away."

"My grandmother? I don't see the connection with you living far away. My maternal grandfather lives far away too, and yet my father told me about him, and we visit him at least once a year. Excuse me, but I'd like to go home. I'll call my father, and if what you're saying is true, then maybe we'll see each other again," I said, stepping forward and trying not to get too close to her.

If I've learned one thing from movies, it's that you should be wary of strangers, especially when they say they know you or are family.

"That might be complicated."

"What do you mean? Are you going to stop me?" I asked, taking a step back to move away from her.

"No, of course not, but you won't be able to talk to him. Can we go inside and talk about this in peace and quiet, please?"

I slipped to the front door, keeping a safe distance from her, and opened it, making sure not to turn my back on her.

"There's no way I'm letting you in. Sophie! Can you come and see, please? There's a woman who claims to be Dad's mother!"

"Well, if you don't want me to come in, will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

"As long as you stay outside, that's fine with me." I said, pushing the door open slightly behind me, ready to close it in case of an attack.

Meanwhile, Sophie came out of her hiding place and joined us, standing slightly behind me.

"Your... Your father is dead, James."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Sophie, putting her hands over her mouth.

"What are you talking about? That's nonsense! I spoke to him last week!"

"It happened four days ago. When did he last call you?"

“Five days ago…” I said, suddenly having second thoughts.

“But how… why would someone want to kill him?”

“There are things about your father you don’t know.”

“That’s complete nonsense. I don’t know who you are, so don’t come back.” I said, before closing the door and going to my room.

I threw my bag in the corner and collapsed onto my bed, pulling out my phone to tell my friends what had happened that evening. I remained agitated while talking to them until Max sent a strange message into the conversation.

Maybe you should call your father to make sure he’s okay.

I stared at the message for a few seconds before deciding to call him. I sat up in bed and selected his contact to begin the call.

One ring… Two rings… Three rings… Four rings… The answering machine picked up.

I hang up, frustrated, and try again.

One ring... Two rings... Three rings... Four rings... The answering machine picks up again.

I start to panic and wonder what I'll do if this woman was telling the truth. I send a message to the group chat to let my friends know he didn't answer.

Maybe he's in a meeting or he's not at his phone.

I read Tom's message and calm down a little. He's right; he's had late-night meetings before, or gone off to do who-knows-what without his phone. To be honest, I don't even really know what his job is. I jump when someone knocks on my bedroom door.

"James? Are you okay?" Sophie asks through the door.

I get up to open the door and face her.

"Thanks, Sophie, it's kind of you to worry, but I'm fine."

“You know, after all this time working here for your father, you’ve become like family to me. Especially you, James, you’re like the son I never had.”

“Oh, Sophie! You know, you’re like family to me too, and you’re like the mother I never had.” I said, hugging her.

Fanfiction in which the reader falls in love with Tyler Lockwood (Michael Trevino).

You're a teenager who dealt with some serious supernatural problems a few years ago. When you hear about another teenager who's about to face similar challenges alone, you don't hesitate long before going to help him. However, your relationship will evolve much more than expected and face many unexpected challenges.

Reader is a witch and werewolf.

This fanfiction largely follows the storyline of the Vampire Diaries serie, adding some narrative elements. Starts in season 2.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/80925481